Page 44 of The Temp

‘I know why you met him.’

My eyes snap open. ‘What?’

He snatches his phone off the sofa and starts scrolling, then hands it to me. I stare down at the lit-up screen and I know that if I was standing up my legs would buckle and I’d collapse. I glance up at Tom but he has his back to me, leaning against the fireplace as if he’s doing a push-up.

Covering my mouth with my cold hand, I look at the couple in the photo. It’s slightly out of focus, taken from outside through the window, but the faces are as clear as day. Liam is cupping my cheek and we’re gazing at each other across the table like lovers. My intestines collapse. I think I need the loo.

‘Frank,’ I manage, squeezing the phone in my hand. The prick took a selfie of us at the café in Crouch End. He must’ve gone round the block and come back for this shot because I watched him walk away.

‘He was showing me a few goofy photos from their trip to Monaco at the barbeque last Saturday,’ Tom explains. ‘He told Zelda he’d deleted them and made me promise not to tell, and then suddenly I caught sight of this one. It was too late for him to backpedal.’ I stare at Tom in a stupor, and for a split second I wish Frank was dead. ‘I think he did it on purpose, to be honest, wanted me to see it. That’s why he gave me his phone.’ Heat spreads through me like wildfire. ‘I asked him to send it to me. I’ve been waiting for you to tell me. I wanted to hear it from you.’ He pauses, looks at the sparkling chandelier.

‘Tom,’ I begin urgently, ‘the photo was taken out of context. I was crying, Liam tried to comfort me but I slapped his hand away.’

‘I don’t care about the photo. It’s what he said he overheard that’s been bothering me.’

‘Did he …’

‘Yes,’ Tom confirms, and I feel as if I’ve been plunged into an ice-bath. I can’t feel my limbs. ‘He played the part to begin with, didn’t want to cause any trouble and all that. But he didn’t need much persuading to share your secret. Blokes solidarity and all that. Fucking tosser.’ I chuck the phone onto the sofa and cover my hands over my ears as Tom rambles on and on about Liam – he’s a loser – a jack-the-lad homewrecker – how could I do this to him – to us? No, no, no. Please make him stop. ‘I don’t know what Frank’s beef is with you, or what he was trying to achieve.’ His words smother my airways. I feel as if the oxygen is being sucked out of the room. I glance up. The furniture is swaying. What’s happening? Am I going to faint again? ‘But now that I know, I can’t unknow, can I?’

‘Tom, please.’

‘I can’t ignore that…’ Tom’s lips tremble. ‘That Liam is Georgia’s dad.’

Chapter 42

‘Tommy, please listen to me.’ I rest a hand on my trembling thigh. ‘Where are you going? Tom. Wait.’ A buzz of laughter from the TV filters through the ceiling as he stomps out of the room in a rage. For a few moments, I just sit there frozen, feeling light-headed, disorientated. Frank has destroyed me. The vindictive bastard. God forgive me, but I wish my sister had ended him. What am I going to do now?

Shooting to my feet, I barrel after Tom. ‘You can’t walk away from this. We need to discuss it.’ Tom ignores my pleas, opening and closing cabinet doors manically. I gawp at him as he crosses the kitchen and opens the freezer. A gust of arctic air snaps at my legs. ‘Tom, please.’ With his bare hand, he scoops up a handful of ice cubes from a plastic bag. They rattle as they hit the glass. ‘You said I could talk to you about anything, remember?’

I watch, rooted to the spot, as he grabs a bottle of cognac off the worktop by the neck. It’s the one Daisy uses for cooking. Cheap and, undoubtedly, not the smoothest of blends, but I don’t suppose Tom really cares right now. It isn’t every day you’re told that the child you’ve been raising for the last fifteen years isn’t biologically yours. Wrapping his lips around the mouth of the bottle, he takes a swig, as if his life depended on it, squeezing his eyes shut as he swallows, face ablaze.

‘Just calm down, will you?’

Tom’s eyes snap open, round and wild and challenging. ‘You,’ he seethes, jabbing a finger at me. ‘Don’t get to tell me how to fucking feel.’ Spittle flies from his mouth, foaming at the corners.

‘Please just listen to me,’ I say, breath shallow. He pours a generous amount of tawny liquid into a tumbler and knocks it back in one hit. ‘What Frank told you was…’

A crashing sound from upstairs snatches our attention. He stops pouring mid-flow and looks at the ceiling.

‘Shit,’ I say, following his gaze. ‘I hope that’s not Georgia, listening.’ I hesitate. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’

I take the steps two at a time, heart pounding, gently ease Georgia’s door open and sigh with relief. She’s asleep, mouth slightly ajar, TV flickering on the wall in front of her bed, volume high. The sound of the cistern filling from Daisy’s room filters through the open door as I watch my precious daughter sleeping soundly.

‘It’s okay, darling,’ I whisper, standing over her, ‘I won’t let Frank destroy our family. I promise.’ Dropping a light kiss on her silky blonde hair, I close the door gently behind me, race down the stairs and storm into the kitchen. Tom is sitting at the table looking ashen.

‘You okay?’ I ask.

‘Do I look okay?’

‘Sorry. Stupid question. She’s asleep, by the way,’ I mutter, pulling out a chair opposite him. ‘Daisy must’ve dropped something in her bedroom.’ Tom acknowledges this piece of information with a grunt. ‘About what Frank said…’

‘Don’t even think about spinning any more lies.’

‘I wasn’t going to.’ I exhale loudly. ‘I wanted to tell you about Liam. I just needed to sort out a few things first and then…’

‘When?’ he snaps.

I look at him, puzzled. ‘What?’

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